Oasis
by redheadgrl
Summary: Sark shows up at SD-6 as Syd's new partner. Sequel to One Month Ago.
1. Surprise

Note- this chapter changes POV a bit. I apologize if that bothers you.  
  
Surprise  
  
(Two Weeks Ago)  
  
The last thing Sark expected was to run into Sydney Bristow fifteen miles south of Jakarta. He had acquired information about Rambaldi papers hidden beneath the floors in the basement of the building he was now in. This was not their original location, they had been moved some time ago, but there were only two other men who knew about the move. One had given him the location and the other was dead.  
  
Apparently, this information was not only sold to him. Sark needed the pages to make the exchange with Sloane, who knew nothing of their whereabouts. That meant that Sydney must be on a mission for the CIA. Sark could not let her deliver the pages to them. It would ruin everything.  
  
Sydney was clearly out for blood the moment she saw Sark in that large basement. She had not cooled since they're last encounter. No, she had only grown more determined to take him out. Sark could see a wild look in her eyes that he liked, though he wished it were for some other reason than to kill him.  
  
"Sark," Sydney said, her eyes narrowed in hatred.  
  
"Agent Bristow."  
  
There was no further exchange of words as they began fighting immediately.  
  
Sark was taken by surprise. Sydney was fast, and she was angry, making her stronger.  
  
"Your combat skills have improved since we last met." He managed to get out between blows.  
  
"I've been practicing." She retorted and caught him with a kick in his side. Sark didn't want to hurt her, but it couldn't be helped. She was too good to play only defense this time.  
  
It was the hottest night Sydney could remember in a long time, especially in the stuffy basement. They were both sweaty in seconds. Sark noticed Sydney still wore a small bandage on her right arm from the bullet wound in Budapest. The fight was only a few minutes, but it was one of the longest hand-to-hand matches Sydney had ever had. She usually took out her opponents in less than a minute. It felt even longer, as the time was marked by new bruises and pain. Sark, for his part, really didn't want to injure Sydney, but he had to admit he felt a certain excitement from the struggle. Sydney was good. It was only two weeks before he had fought with her and while she had talent, she lacked the edge, the fire he had. Not anymore.  
  
Another kick sent him back a few steps. Sydney reached around and produced a gun from her back. Sark was surprised again. Why didn't she pull it earlier? He wondered.  
  
Before Sydney could get off a shot, Sark kicked the gun from her hands, to the wall. Sydney dove for the gun, and Sark dove for Sydney.  
  
She didn't reach the gun, it lay past a loose grid of metal pipes about a foot from the wall, but Sark reached Sydney. She let out a grunt as his body struck hers. He straddled her back and grabbed her arms in one fluid motion. His grip was strong and there was little Sydney could do on her belly, with Sark on top.  
  
He took out a pair of handcuffs from somewhere, Sydney could not see, and cuffed her hands to a cross section of the pipes. He raised himself off her and she immediately brought herself as up as high as she could, which was only to her knees.  
  
"Sark let me go!" She yelled, even though she knew it wasn't going to do any good. She was so angry she continued to struggle in vain, until she saw Sark pick up the gun.  
  
Sydney froze. Sark could see that she thought he was going to shoot her and he let out a low laugh.  
  
"I haven't killed you yet, what makes you think I'm going to now?" He asked.  
  
"How should I know your intentions? You seem to take pleasure in being cruel to me." She answered honestly.  
  
She looked so sexy there, in her tight black pants and tank top. She was breathing heavy and her body was wet with perspiration. Not to mention she was handcuffed to the wall. Sark could not resist.  
  
He leaned in close to her. "Sydney," he said, as he ran a finger under her tank top, down her lower back and into the top of her pants, "I think I could take pleasure in being a lot of things to you."  
  
Sydney found herself excited by his words, then angry at herself for feeling that way. The next moment, however, she was afraid again, as she felt the cool tip of the gun against her back, tracing the line his finger just made. Sydney swallowed. Sark lifted the waistband of her pants again, and slid the weapon back into it's original location.  
  
He stood abruptly. "You can't have the Rambaldi papers, Ms. Bristow, and I can't have you following me. I'm sure you're back up will be here shortly. Why don't you just relax for a while?"  
  
He turned and walked out of the room smiling, with a final glance at the handcuffed Ms. Bristow.  
  
Sydney, once so calm and controlled, was left hot with frustration, shouting a string of curses after him. 


	2. Thinking

Thinking  
  
Sydney did anything but relax as she waited for Vaughn to get her. They had decided to do the operation without radio, not wanting to chance anyone picking anything up. Sydney and Vaughn had no reason to believe there would be any trouble, but they wanted to remain as cautious as possible since it was dangerous for them to be together. Vaughn wouldn't know something went wrong with the mission until she didn't show at their meeting point. He wouldn't get to her for about half an hour, she figured.  
  
Alone, handcuffed to the pipes, Sydney's mind raced. She found herself replaying the recent events with every emotion possible. Sark was definitely flirting with her, she thought. Why? What was he trying to prove? Before, she believed he was teasing, just because that was the kind of bastard he was. But tonight, the way he spoke in her ear, she believed he meant what he said. Unless he was playing games with her again.  
  
And why should I care? Sydney asked herself. Bastard, she thought. I'm going to kill him when we meet again. I won't hesitate to draw then. Put a stop to that cocky British accent and ever-present smirk.  
  
Frustration and anger boiled in her once more. She was mad that he bested her again, mad that he left her there like this, mad that he said such things to her... and mad at herself for liking to hear it from him. She was definitely going to have to kill him when they met again.  
  
Just as she estimated, about half an hour later, Vaughn came in.  
  
"Sydney, are you OK?" he asked running over to her.  
  
"I'm fine." She smiled and lied.  
  
Vaughn didn't have the equipment to unlock Sydney's cuffs, so he broke them apart and Sydney wore them like bracelets back to the safehouse. After explanations, they were on their way.  
  
*************************************************************************** "We can stay here tonight." Vaughn said, looking at Sydney. They were in a small house in Jakarta. It was beaten up and dirty, like most of the other houses in the area.  
  
Sydney was taken aback. "Are you sure it's OK?" She asked.  
  
"Sloane thinks you're on vacation and the mission was a failure. There's no need to hurry anywhere."  
  
Sydney didn't know what to say. Part of her was exhausted from fighting Sark and another part of her was excited from fighting Sark. She wanted to sleep, and at the same time she wanted to run down the streets and kick some ass.  
  
Vaughn came close to Sydney.  
  
Oh my god, he's going to kiss me, she thought. He's really going to do it, after all this time.  
  
Vaughn leaned in, and Sydney let him kiss her. It was soft and sweet and for a moment, she stopped thinking about everything. She pushed Sark, Alice, Sloane, her father, everyone, out of her mind.  
  
When their lips parted, Vaughn asked, "Is this OK with you?"  
  
Sydney nodded. The struggle back in the building left her tingly and she had wondered for a long time what it would be like to be with Vaughn, though admittedly, not as much of late.  
  
Vaughn smiled like a schoolboy. "Are you sure?" he asked again.  
  
Sydney nodded once again, though she found herself a bit annoyed for some reason.  
  
Fortunately, Vaughn led her onto the bed and removed her top and she relaxed, letting her mind shut off.  
  
Vaughn removed his clothing, then the rest of hers and proceeded to kiss her gently on her shoulders, chest, and stomach.  
  
Sydney was aroused, wondering what kind of a lover Vaughn would be. Since they had met, there was a longing between them. She had often fantasized about this moment, never fully believing it could really happen. But now, she admitted, something was wrong. Something was off.  
  
When Vaughn entered her, she found herself thinking of Sark's voice in her ear. "I think I could take pleasure in being a lot of things to you." She had to push her thoughts from her mind again and did so by kissing Vaughn.  
  
He had a nice body, if a little small, and his kisses were so gentle. She knew he was concentrating, trying to make everything right for her. Sydney closed her eyes and let him.  
  
Vaughn was a good lover... it was good sex. It just wasn't great sex. Sydney told herself that things were always off the first time, until two people learned one another's bodies.  
  
"Sydney, I-" Vaughn began.  
  
"Wait," Sydney said. "Wait a minute longer."  
  
Vaughn did. Sydney concentrated on bringing about her climax. She succeeded just seconds before Vaughn.  
  
After, he collapsed on her and patted her hair.  
  
"I've wanted you for so long." He said.  
  
"Me too." Sydney returned.  
  
They held onto each other for a while. When Sydney rose some time later, she was surprised when she saw her wrists. Sydney and Vaughn had forgotten to remove her handcuffs before they began, and they still hung like bracelets on each arm. 


	3. Confrontation

(Present Day)  
  
Confrontation  
  
Sydney went for a late lunch and some coffee. She occasionally ate lunch with Dixon, but he was gone and she had not yet been assigned a replacement. She sat alone on a park bench; she didn't mind, it was good to have some time to think finally.  
  
It was almost two weeks since Sydney had encountered Sark in Indonesia, and slept with Vaughn. She and Vaughn had spoken little of what happened since there hadn't been time. Of course she told Vaughn about the botched mission last month, minus a few of Sark's more suggestive comments and actions, though she wasn't sure why she kept them to herself.  
  
She and her father kept Sloane entirely in the dark, however, which is what Sloane thought he was doing to them. Jack had created a cover story for their whereabouts. Since Sark knew about Sydney's status as a double agent, her father thought it best to lie about their capture, the forced mission, and her kidnapping to Sloane.  
  
Sydney reflected on what her father related. Sloane had been unconcerned about the loss of Dixon. When Jack reported his "desertion" during their mission, Sloane showed little care. So Jack let Sloane believe that he and Sydney thought Dixon went rogue and Sloane hid whatever he knew about Dixon's whereabouts. The only thing Jack was sure of was that Sloane believed the mission was real. Sloane was unaware that Dixon set up it up in the first place, in order to trap them for Sark. It was as if Sloane were incapable of thinking anything clever possible of Dixon. They were all deceiving each other, as usual. Only Sark knew the whole truth.  
  
After Sydney finished a sandwich and a large coffee, she returned to SD-6.  
  
Back at work, Sydney headed into Sloane's office. She caught a glimpse of a blonde man with Sloane, who suddenly turned... no, it couldn't be!  
  
Sark was there, standing right there, next to Sloane!  
  
Sydney could barely contain her shock. Her heartbeat quickened. Sloane's arm draped over Sark's shoulder like they were old chums. Seeing him, Sydney was flooded with the memory of his touch on her bare skin, the way he whispered into her ear... Sark's eyes bore into hers, a faint smile on his lips. Sydney felt hot and tucked her hair behind her ear, just for something to do.  
  
"Mr. Sark, I believe you know Agent Bristow," Sloane said, then turning to Sydney, "Mr. Sark is now cooperating with us."  
  
"Cooperating?" Sydney asked in disbelief.  
  
"Yes, with the loss of Agent Dixon, you'll be needing a new partner. Sark has agreed to cooperate with us in combing our efforts to solve the Rambaldi mystery. I'll be officially introducing him at tomorrow's meeting."  
  
What was he doing there? Was he there to betray her? Blackmail her? Sydney could glean nothing from his face now. Sloane dismissed Sydney, leaving her to seethe quietly until the day was over.  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
The next morning, Sydney waited in the alley before work. She knew Sark was approaching by the sound of his walk. A leisurely, confident pace. She was so angry she thought that even his gait sounded arrogant.  
  
Springing out of the alley, Sydney pushed Sark up against the wall and grabbed the side of his collar.  
  
"I know you like to play rough Ms. Bristow, but this really isn't the appropriate place." There it was. He smirked.  
  
Not letting Sark get to her, Sydney began, "You get me abducted to Serbia, you steal the Rambaldi papers in Jakarta, and now you've got the nerve to show up here, feigning an alliance between you and Sloane?"  
  
It was obvious to Sark that she feared he'd tell Sloane the truth about her.  
  
"Trust me Agent Bristow. I have all of our best interests at heart," he said.  
  
"Really?" Sydney spat. She titled her head to the side, "How is that possible when our interests conflict?"  
  
"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss such business with you. Now, if you'll relax your grip on my collar, I believe we're late for work," Sark finished, still wearing his trademark smirk.  
  
"I know you offered Sloane the Rambaldi papers. What I don't know is why. But believe me, I will find out."  
  
Sydney let go, but didn't back away. "Don't think I won't take you down as soon as I get the chance."  
  
"I look forward to it." Sark replied. Sydney slowly turned away walked toward the office.  
  
"Sydney-" he called after her, his voice somewhat soft, "I do hope you'll accept my sincerest apologies for your abduction."  
  
"Which one?" Sydney shot back.  
  
But inside, she was surprised by his remark. She had never seen Sark apologetic before. There were so many questions floating through her mind. What was the purpose of his flirtation? His supposed remorse over his actions? What was he doing at SD-6? How did Dixon tie into all this? Confused and angered she walked toward the office.  
  
**************************************************************************** ***********************  
  
"This is Mr. Vail, founder of North Star Technologies," Sloane said. A tall, large man with curly dark hair appeared on the screen.  
  
"We have received information that he will be at the Blue Oasis Spa in the Arizona desert this Saturday. Instead of going public with his most inventive technology, he turns to the black market first." Sloane paused. He looked around the conference room containing Sydney, Jack, Marshall, and Sark.  
  
"This is Victor Palladino." Another picture flashed, a close-up of an older man, with white hair and an age mark on his cheek. Sydney stole a look at Sark, who was intently gazing at the screen. She felt herself grow hot with the memory of his touch again and quickly looked back at the picture.  
  
"He will be meeting Mr. Vail at the spa, in order to purchase Mr. Vail's newest creation. We don't know what it is yet, and we're not interested in obtaining it just yet, either." Sloane took a few steps forward. "We're more interested in finding out what Victor Palladino intends to do with it. Your mission, Sydney, is to insert a tracking device into the briefcase holding Mr. Vail's invention, before the sale. We believe the two men will meet to come to an agreement sometime next Friday or Saturday."  
  
Sloane turned to Sydney. "Mr. Sark will be accompanying you on this mission," he informed her.  
  
"Mr. Sark?" Sydney asked. "Why do I need Sark for this?" She looked over at Sark and he lowered his head, looking humble for the group. She knew he was supposed to be her new partner, but this didn't sound like a complicated mission. Certainly someone of less importance in Sloane's eyes could accompany her.  
  
"This hotel is the location of choice for many of Mr. Vail's dealings. We also need it bugged, top to bottom, and reports of anyone else he happens to meet during his stay. You and Sark will pose as husband and wife- new money- enjoying a weeklong visit to the spa."  
  
"I know you have concerns about Mr. Sark," Sloane continued, "but I can assure you that everything will run smoothly. This will be an easy mission. At one of the countries top spas, it will be more like a vacation." Sloane gave Sydney a smile and look of parental encouragement.  
  
Oh sure, a vacation, Sydney thought.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
Sark arrived at SD-6 to pick up Sydney later that evening. It was Friday night, and they wanted to arrive at the spa before Mr. Vail, in order to get acquainted with their surroundings. They were meeting at SD-6 before boarding a plane bound for Phoenix.  
  
Sydney had gone home and packed a few hours before. She still didn't understand why Mr. Sark had been assigned to accompany her. She thought there may be something to the mission Sloane wasn't telling her. Sydney made a vow to herself to play it cool from now on. Sark knew how much he got to her and she didn't want him to have that power. Even if he had it, she didn't want him to know it.  
  
Sark pulled up in his black Mercedes. Sydney was holding a large suitcase, and a carry-on she could barely zip up. She had over-packed. For some reason, she found it difficult to decide what to bring, and that annoyed her. At the last second, she had stuffed all four of her swimsuits into the case.  
  
With the top down, Sydney just threw her suitcases in the back and sat down up front.  
  
"Not so much as a hello?" Sark asked, pretending to be hurt.  
  
"Let's get this straight," she turned to look at him. "The only time we have to play husband and wife is when people are watching. In private, I don't want you to talk to me, I don't want you to look at me. We're not going to be friends. We have a job to do and that's it." She said.  
  
"Mmmm.." Sark mused. "Well at least put on your wedding ring Mrs. Sark."  
  
Hearing the words 'Mrs. Sark', Sydney flinched.  
  
"What?" She asked.  
  
"Your wedding ring. It wouldn't look very nice for a wife not to wear her ring." Sark explained, offering her a small band and a smile.  
  
Sydney collected herself. She took the ring. It was platinum, she noticed, set with a huge diamond. Very new money, but very beautiful. It was then she noticed that Sark was already wearing his. She slipped it on, feeling strange to be wearing matching bands with Sark. It was certainly not something she ever pictured herself doing. Of course, most of her life was doing things she never imagined anymore.  
  
"Don't call me Mrs. Sark." She hissed. "I don't think those are our aliases....?"  
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Edward Drake," he replied, as if her name was inconsequential.  
  
"And what is my name?" Sydney asked, impatient.  
  
"Oh," Sark began lightly "Catherine. But I think everyone calls you Kitty, instead," he suggested.  
  
"Do not call me Kitty," Sydney said through clenched teeth.  
  
"I'll try my best," Sark smiled, and drove out of the garage. 


	4. Arriving

Arriving  
  
They did not converse more than necessary during the trip. Sark was working off his laptop and Sydney found she couldn't concentrate, and stared out the window into the night. It was a short flight anyway.  
  
Flashback to Warehouse************************************************  
  
"So what am I supposed to do?" Sydney asked the question of both Vaughn and her father.  
  
A pause followed. Vaughn sighed.  
  
"Nothing." he said.  
  
"Nothing?" Sydney asked in disbelief.  
  
Her father replied, "Sydney, I have to agree with Vaughn in this case. Sark knows we're both doubles. He'll be watching you and it's not likely he'll miss anything. There's nothing you can do. Until we learn Sark's true motives for infiltrating SD-6, I think you're going to have to forfeit your contermissions when you're with him."  
  
Sydney thought about Jack's statement and about Sark's confusing behavior.  
  
"He knows we're doubles, but he hasn't said anything to Sloane. I think I can at least try. He knows I'm going to try."  
  
Jack looked upset. "Sydney, you have to be careful. There's much more to this than we know. He did help rescue you in Serbia and he seemed remorseful, which is puzzling, but that doesn't mean I trust him. He learned from your mother and we don't really know her true aim, either. I'm sure Sark is capable of the same long term strategy."  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
Sydney looked down at the ring on her finger, then over at Sark's. He had seemed sincere earlier, when he apologized. If so, what would make him sorry now? One minute he was trying to kill her, the next he was teasing her, then he ignored her completely. She didn't understand any of it. It felt like a high school game, except with deadly consequences. He was the big shot, the guy every girl wanted, and he was toying with her. But if she let down her guard ever, it wouldn't be her reputation at stake, it would be her life, she thought grimly.  
  
Sark closed his laptop before the plane made its initial descent.  
  
"Have you spent much time in the desert?" he asked her.  
  
"No." she said suspiciously.  
  
Sark gave her a look. "You can't hold suspect every word I utter, Sydney."  
  
She straightened. He was right. She had forgotten the vow she had made a few hours earlier to play it cool.  
  
"Whatever," she replied with forced nonchalance as she shrugged her shoulders and turned back to the window.  
  
Sark let out a low laugh. Sydney glowered out at the lights of Phoenix.  
  
**************************************************************************** **********  
  
Since they were pretending to be new money, Sydney and Sark were both dressed a bit showy. He wore a flashy Bvlgari watch on his left wrist and a beautifully tailored dark suit. She wore a black tank dress with strappy red heels, a tennis bracelet and large diamond studs. She kept her natural hair, but wore it with more volume than usual.  
  
Sark had a rental car waiting for them. The spa was about an hour and a half northwest. Sark drove.  
  
They spoke now. Alone, Sydney and Sark reviewed their cover, discussing details about their past. According to the bio, they had made a small fortune during the stock market boom and on a few venture capitalist deals and were lucky enough to parlay in into real estate before the crash. They met on a wine tour in Sonoma Sark- Edward- had taken three years ago. Sydney was a guide. A year later, they married, honeymooned in Hawaii, and settled down to San Jose. Edward concentrated on his investments and Catherine dabbled in sculpture. They had an indulgent jet setting lifestyle, and loved to stay in world-class spas whenever possible.  
  
It was just past eleven by the time they arrived at the Blue Oasis. The concierge greeted them as if they were regulars.  
  
"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Drake. Welcome. We have a lovely suite for you- I hope it's to your liking- and I've taken the liberty to reserve a couple's massage for you in the morning, if you're so inclined."  
  
A couple's massage? Sydney thought with horror.  
  
"Oh, no thank you," Sark began, and Sydney relaxed. He looked at her and a mischievous glint flickered in his eyes," but if you have an opening in the afternoon, we'd love one."  
  
"Of course, sir." The concierge obliged. "I'll set one up for one o'clock?"  
  
"One o'clock would be perfect." Sark agreed.  
  
Sydney offered the men a tight-lipped smile. The concierge wished them a good night and the bellhop showed them to their room.  
  
The suite was done in cool colours with soft textures and pillows about. After a small entranceway, the suite ran in both directions. To the left was a living room and dining room. The dining area had large windows and a balcony overlooking the many pools and tennis courts below. To the right was a short hallway, a sitting area, and the bedroom and bath. The veranda in the bedroom overlooked open desert. The bathroom began with a lovely vanity, then opened to a shower and large marble bath. There were speakers in the walls and a selection of relaxation music. The suite had an absence of anything business-like, but Sydney took notice of a discretely placed cluster of outlets for setting up a small makeshift office in the living room.  
  
"We do not wish to be disturbed unless I call for service." Sark instructed. He caught the bellhop sneak a look at Sydney in her flattering black dress as he nodded. Sydney was oblivious; Sark smiled on the inside, then generously tipped the bellhop who promptly left.  
  
Sark spoke once they were alone. "We need to get to work tonight. Let's head downstairs, explore, and set up here."  
  
Sydney agreed. They waited a few minutes, then headed back down to the lobby acting as if they were any other couple taking a look around the spa.  
  
"Bugging the place shouldn't be too difficult. They have minimal security. We can easily break into their systems." He whispered. "Early tomorrow, I'll start work. You can monitor in the suite. I'll wire the cameras back to you."  
  
Sydney wondered why he wouldn't take the back up position. She was used to taking the risk. It didn't matter though, either way should could rig the signal and send it back to the CIA. She wondered why Sark hadn't said anything about it yet. She searched his face for clues but found nothing. She didn't know what his game was, but she decided it was best not to say anything until he did.  
  
They walked the grounds. It was landscaped beautifully. There were several pools, a waterfall, and a sort of grotto built in the center. Beyond, Sydney saw the tennis courts, manicured lawns for yoga, and even a Zen garden.  
  
For the first time, she felt mildly relaxed with Sark. They weren't arguing for once. Sydney knew if they drove beyond the lights of the hotel, there would be a beautiful view of the stars. She wished she had taken the time to gaze on their drive. Sydney couldn't remember the last time she had really looked at the stars, or taken a walk at night with a man.  
  
The night was cool, since they were in the desert. Sydney shivered and Sark put his arm around her. It was the most contact they had ever had, except for when they were fighting. As always with all things Sark, Sydney felt divided. She felt strangely safe pressed against him and yet at the same time she felt it may be the most dangerous position for her to be in.  
  
They made their way back inside. The spa had three restaurants and a raw bar. Sydney and Sark studied the map in the lobby. Most of the spa and gym facilities were on the third floor. She let out a laugh when she saw the hotel boasted an oxygen bar.  
  
With their investigation complete, they returned to the suite. 


	5. Goodnight

Goodnight  
  
"Let's rise at say- six o'clock. I should be finished before nine. The cleaning crew will be making their rounds then. I'll be able to work unnoticed."  
  
Sydney nodded in agreement. "I cannot allow you to sabotage the mission, obviously. But I will allow you to send the same feed back to the CIA." Sark said.  
  
"You'll allow me?" Sydney said with indignation. "How dare you? Who the hell do you think you are Sark?" Sydney demanded, raising her voice.  
  
Sark remained calm, as usual, which only served to anger Sydney more. "Someone who knows your secrets Ms. Bristow. Did you think I would let you ruin the mission? Unacceptable. Sloane would know. But I am giving you permission to give the CIA the same information we're giving SD-6. If you try to deceive me, Sydney, I will find out." His eyes warned her. He spoke with authority and she believed him. "You have no choice but to do as I say."  
  
Sydney was outraged. "You're going to hold this over my head all time aren't you? Is that your game, Sark? You're here to blackmail me little by little? Do as I say or I'll tell Sloane the truth?" She finally let it out.  
  
"Perhaps I haven't decided yet." Sark said teasingly.  
  
"Perhaps I'll kill you in your sleep and be done with it." Sydney returned.  
  
"Perhaps I've set it up to expose you should anything happen to me." Sark countered.  
  
Sydney opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't think of anything to say. She glowered at Sark, not knowing what to make of his apparent threat. He remained still, the corners of his mouth curved in a slight grin.  
  
Stop it! Sydney admonished herself. Don't let him see he upsets you!  
  
"Why are you allowing me to send CIA the feed?" she asked. "If they can track the briefcase as well, they'll have an equal chance of scoring the prize later."  
  
"Always so many questions from the persistent Ms. Bristow." He said.  
  
"Always so many lies from the deceptive Mr. Sark." She breathed.  
  
"Touché." He laughed. "But I'm afraid you're in no position to ask questions. However, that never seems to stop you, so go on asking if you like, but don't expect answers."  
  
They both held each other's gaze for a few moments. Sydney slowly rolled her eyes away first, trying to look bored. Without a word she began setting up their equipment. Sark grabbed a small bag and headed into the bathroom.  
  
Sydney didn't think Sark was serious when he threatened her exposure at his death, but she couldn't be sure. She tried, but she couldn't come up with any motives for Sark's apparent indifference regarding her tracking the briefcase for the CIA as well. She briefly thought he wanted to set her up, in order to catch her and turn her in to Sloane, but that was too complicated. He could have produced evidence before if he wanted to hand her over to Sloane. So why would he let the CIA have the same intel? She didn't understand.  
  
Sark emerged a short time later, just as she was finishing up. Sydney was surprised seeing him casual for the first time. She never pictured him in bedclothes. What did you think he slept in those tailored suits? She chided herself. Sark was wearing loose black pants and a fitted dark gray t-shirt. He walked in barefoot. His attire made Sydney think of a martial arts match. She could picture him wearing the same clothing while training. She had to admit he looked good. The t-shirt was stretched tightly against his chest, showing off his broad shoulders, strong arms and flat abs.  
  
Sydney found herself wondering how many women the all the world over fell victim to his charms. He probably seduced a different girl each place he traveled. On the other hand, he did seem so secretive, so guarded, Sydney also thought he may see a relationship, even merely a physical one, as a liability. The enigmatic Sark, she thought. And why do you care? She asked herself. She vaguely recalled having asked that same question of herself not too long ago.  
  
Sark looked at the sofa in the living room.  
  
"I'll sleep on the sofa." He said.  
  
Sydney shrugged. "You can have the bed." She hadn't thought about it really, it was just a reflex protest.  
  
"Alright. Thank you." Sark smiled.  
  
Sydney's jaw dropped. Sark left her in the living room and walked into the bedroom. Sydney looked at the sofa. It didn't look comfortable. She followed Sark into the bedroom and eyed the lavish king bed.  
  
"Listen, I..." she started.  
  
Sark looked at her expectantly.  
  
"I mean, since you offered before. I think I should get the bed." She raised her chin as she finished.  
  
"Wouldn't it only be fair to share?" Sark questioned, raising an eyebrow. "It is quite a large bed."  
  
"I would never share a bed with you, Sark!" Sydney hissed slowly.  
  
"Espionage acquaints a man with strange bedfellows."  
  
Sydney smiled with sarcasm. "I'm sure a gentleman such as yourself would want the couch."  
  
"Ms. Bristow, we both know I'm no gentleman. But when lovely lady such as yourself asks so nicely, how could any man refuse any request?"  
  
He left her and walked into the hall. Sydney sat on the bed, furious again.  
  
"Goodnight Ms. Bristow." He called out behind him.  
  
Sydney didn't reply. 


	6. Day One

Day One  
  
Sydney had had trouble falling asleep the night before. Usually, on missions, her body was trained to wake up without the help of an alarm clock, but today she had overslept. Something was pulling her out of her dreams, and when she awoke, Sark was the first thing she saw. He was standing in the doorway, hair tousled, looking at her. She sat up, embarrassed at being caught off guard. How long had he been watching her?  
  
"Good morning." He greeted.  
  
"Good morning, Sark." She said evenly.  
  
"Would you like to use the bathroom first?" He asked in a polite British accent.  
  
She nodded. "Thank you."  
  
**************************************************************************** *************************  
  
They discussed a few details and Sark left. His first stop was the staffing quarters, to steal a Blue Oasis uniform. He would hack into all computers, cameras, and plant the bugs while Sydney watched from the suite. She would send the feed to SD-6 and, secretly, to the CIA. It was too simple. They didn't even have to stay in the suite to monitor. All they had to do until next Friday was check in with Sloane a few times who had a team watching and listening for anything unusual back in LA.  
  
The entire job was finished in under two hours, much as Sark predicted. Sydney even found herself a bit bored. Just why were they staying here all week? In their meeting, Sloane had made it sound as if she and Sark were to do the monitoring themselves from inside the suite, but with a team back at headquarters to do it.. Was there something Sark was hiding? A secret double mission for himself and Sloane? Is that why he didn't care about what the CIA had?  
  
Sydney looked over at his bags and had to clench her hands to keep herself from opening them. How tempting to rummage through his belongings for clues! But she was too afraid that Sark would somehow know. She forced herself to look away.  
  
Sydney focused on the laptop in front of her. She saw various areas of the hotel flash on the screen. Shortly, first Vaughn, then SD-6, confirmed that they too were in possession of the same views and there was nothing else to do.  
  
"Everything's in place." She spoke into her radio to Sark.  
  
"See you soon," he said and moved to return to their suite.  
  
**************************************************************************** *************  
  
At twelve Sydney and Sark were both in the lobby of the spa. Here, men and women separated into different areas to relax in the hot tubs, steam rooms, and saunas before their scheduled papering.  
  
Sark gave Sydney a chaste kiss on the cheek as they parted and a guide showed Sydney into the changing room. Chaste as the kiss was, she could feel his lips for a long time after.  
  
"Don't forget to replenish your fluids." The guide instructed her. She gave Sydney a lush white robe and left. Sydney didn't know why it was called a "changing room." She wasn't "changing" into anything, really, just undressing. Spas like this were always nude. She took off her clothes with care. She wasn't embarrassed about her body at all, but she was self-conscious about the scars. At any given time, she usually had two or three strange bruises and marks that were difficult to explain. Cover up took care of the problem best when she wasn't swimming or sweating under the sun.  
  
She checked herself out in the mirror. Not bad. Just a small scar on her arm from the bullet she took when Roland captured her and a small cut on her leg from, ironically, shaving.  
  
Knowing how much fluid she'd lose from the treatments, Sydney grabbed a water bottle and headed into the sauna. She lost herself in the heat and the hour passed quickly. From time to time unwanted images came into her mind of Sark laying back on the bench in his sauna, or relaxing in the hot tub. Nude.  
  
When she stepped out of the heat, a guide was already waiting to take her to her appointment. She was led into a small, dimly lit room where Sark had also just arrived. Then they were left alone.  
  
He was glistening with perspiration and his hair was wet from the Jacuzzi. This was the moment she had been dreading. To be naked next to Sark as she was being massaged, even if he couldn't see her, was an intimacy that made Sydney blush. She was still angry that he agreed to the procedure in the first place. She stared at him. He wore a look of amusement. Had he imagined her as she was just moments before as she had him?  
  
"Turn around." She said when he seemed to be making no move.  
  
Sydney braced herself for a biting comment, but thankfully, she'd been spared this time. She guessed he thought this was enough discomfort for her, no need to compound it. Sark turned his back to her and Sydney eyed him cautiously before she removed her robe and darted under the safety of the towel on the massage table.  
  
Laying face down, she could only hear him perform the same actions, though much slower. Were his eyes on her? She swore she could feel him looking at what her towel left uncovered.  
  
With practiced timing, two employees entered the room. One woman approached her and began to rub oil onto her skin. Sydney heard the woman attending Sark speak.  
  
"Is there any area in particular you'd like me to concentrate on?" she asked.  
  
Sark replied, "Please. My back is remarkably sore. I must not have slept comfortably last night."  
  
Was that a jab at her in some way? Sydney wondered. There was no way to tell for sure without seeing his face. Probably.  
  
When her masseuse asked the same question, she replied a bit too loudly, "I've had a pain in my neck these last few days."  
  
Then the room was silent, but for the low relaxation music, for the rest of the treatment.  
  
A mere two feet from her own massage table, Sydney couldn't help but picture Sark's naked oiled body and wonder what it would feel like to be the one rubbing it. Not that she was interested in any way! She was just.. curious.  
  
**************************************************************************** *******************  
  
With the massage complete, Sydney and Sark made their way back up to their suite. Suddenly, in the elevator, Sydney felt herself break out in a sweat. She should have drank more water, but was disgusted upon finding out she accidentally grabbed the spa's own mineral water instead of spring water, and had to force herself to sip it. She was dizzy. The small area inside the elevator spun.  
  
Without warning, Sark's arms were around her.  
  
"Are you OK?" he asked,  
  
Lightheaded, she leaned into his strong body without hesitation.  
  
"I- I- must not have replenished my fluids." She said stupidly. How could a little dehydration make her dizzy when she fought on after being shot in the shoulder in the past?  
  
"You need to drink water and lie down." He told her.  
  
Sydney nodded. She breathed deeply and took in Sark's scent. He smelled good- clean, masculine. Her stomach had that feeling again, being so close to him. When the elevator reached their floor, he made no move. Embarrassed, she slowly straightened.  
  
"Can you walk?" He asked her. Sydney nodded again, but stepped slowly and carefully out. As they made their way to their suite, she was aware of Sark half beside her, half behind, ready to assist her as if she were a child only learning to walk for the first time. 


	7. A Quick Dip

A Quick Dip  
  
After some time laying on the sofa and drinking cold water, Sydney felt much better. She watched Sark from time to time, working on his laptop as he often did.  
  
"We really ought to put in an appearance downstairs." He said eventually.  
  
"Would you like to go for a swim?" She asked, surprised at herself as the words came out.  
  
Sark looked up, an eyebrow raised. Then he smiled. "I'd be delighted, Ms. Bristow."  
  
"I'll just be a minute." Sydney said, heading into the bedroom to change. She pondered her four swimsuits then chose her red bikini. It was solid, simple, and flattering. She added a red and black short sarong and sunglasses, then went out to into the sitting room.  
  
Sark had changed as well. He was wearing a black swimsuit, sandals, and sunglasses. Her sunglasses were in her hair, his were already covering his eyes. She wished she could see them as he stared at her. He looks edible, Sydney thought to herself, as she took in all his exposed flesh, even if he is a cold killer. And the enemy. And a son-of-a-bitch. His body was well formed, as any agent's would be. His arms and shoulders held her attention. They were beautifully developed, strong, but not overly so.  
  
The better to pin you with. She heard a voice in her head say.  
  
Shut up! She yelled at the voice. Why had she been thinking about Sark's body lately?  
  
Surprisingly, he didn't look as deadly now as he usually did. They would easily blend in with the other guests.  
  
"Shall we?" He asked, hand outstretched, indicating for her to proceed first.  
  
Sydney swept past him and headed out.  
  
**************************************************************************** *******************  
  
The pool was near empty when they arrived.  
  
"Lots of classes scheduled now." Sydney said. Indeed, she could see many guests involved in yoga or Pilates further away.  
  
They claimed two lounge chairs and faced the hot desert sun. Sydney found herself stealing glances at Sark. The naked body that she pictured throughout their shared massage was all practically available to her view now, covered only by thin swim trunks.  
  
Sark was quiet. Everything was quiet, but her mind. So many questions she had over these last few days played on her lips. Most of all, she wanted to ask Sark about Dixon or about his real motives at SD-6, but she was sure he would never give her the answers she sought on those subjects.  
  
Sydney flipped onto her stomach and turned her head to Sark. She could not tell if his eyes were opened of closed under the dark glasses.  
  
"Why did you rescue me in Serbia?" She asked him in a strong voice.  
  
"I told you. I wasn't lying before when I said I was sorry for your abduction."  
  
"So it's OK for you to abduct me, just not anyone else?" She said with sarcasm.  
  
Sark took his time in replying, "I would hate to see such a talented agent meet such a shameful end."  
  
"It would have been an easy way to get rid of me." Sydney continued.  
  
Sark turned his head to face her. "I can handle you."  
  
Was she crazy or was there more to that statement? Was he flirting again? Sydney narrowed her eyes. "Lucky you." She said and flipped her head down, ending the conversation, or so she thought.  
  
A minute later Sark spoke, "Your wound has healed nicely."  
  
Sydney's head snapped up and she followed his gaze to her arm.  
  
"My body has learned to heal well from constant abuse." Sydney responded and flipped again onto her back, moving the scar out of Sark's view.  
  
"Occupational hazard." He offered, referring to the inevitable wounds.  
  
"The whole occupation's a hazard." Sydney suddenly snapped. Then she laughed to soften what she said. "So many scars are difficult to explain." She recited a list, "I've been clumsy, unlucky, robbed, had a large number of extreme sporting accidents, and even once, an abusive boyfriend."  
  
Sark gave her a questioning look.  
  
She shrugged. "A friend was convinced my boyfriend was beating me from all the bruises. I had to promise to leave him or she was going to contact the police. After that, I waited for a while then told her I was signing up for martial arts lessons so that I could always have an excuse."  
  
"You hardly seem the type to put up with an abusive boyfriend." Sark asked seriously.  
  
"Well, what was she to think? How could anyone guess I lead a double life as a deadly spy?" Sydney demanded.  
  
"Triple life." He corrected her.  
  
Sydney shifted uncomfortably. This conversation was too personal. She scrutinized Sark and found a small scar on his chest and one on his leg. "What about you?" She asked, moving to the offense. "Where did you get the wound on your chest?"  
  
"Fight with a man in Iceland. Huge Viking type."  
  
When Sark didn't offer more information, she asked about the scar on his leg.  
  
"Someone threw an ice pick in my thigh. It was quite painful and left a nasty wound for a while." He said pointedly.  
  
Sydney didn't seem the least bit sorry. If she was, her face betrayed nothing as she spoke, "I'm sure you would have done the same. You had a gun pointed at my head. And don't feel bad- you escaped with the music box, leaving me to a watery grave."  
  
Sark stared at Sydney and she wondered if he knew the truth.  
  
Finally, he spoke, "The box was corrupted beyond use."  
  
Sydney looked around the area for a distraction. It was a new experience sharing anything personal with Sark. She needed to escape his bare body. She needed to clear her mind from images of an oiled Sark on the massage table, and next-to-naked-sunbathing-Sark wasn't helping.  
  
She stretched her long body on the chair, a move that captivated his attention, though she didn't notice. .  
  
"I'm going swimming." She announced and abruptly dove into the pool.  
  
As Sydney surfaced, she found Sark was missing from his chair. She blinked, and looked around. Suddenly, she felt something squeeze her sides tightly. She let out a cry and turned before realizing it was Sark.  
  
His head broke the surface. He was smiling. Why was he being playful? Why was she enjoying it? Maybe she hadn't rested enough before. Unexpectedly giddy, she decided to play back.  
  
Sydney threw Sark a teasing look before taking off toward the grotto. She swam fast, under the waterfall, intending to pop up in the cave behind. But as she kicked furiously for the surface, a strong had gripped her leg and dragged her back down. Under the water, she saw Sark reach the air first and she swam up to join him.  
  
The waves echoed and cast shadows on the rocky walls of the small cave. Sark was smiling and she couldn't help but smile, too. His grin revealed a sharp canine tooth.  
  
The better to bite you with! Said the voice in her head.  
  
I told you to shut up! She admonished it once again.  
  
"You're a strong swimmer." She commented, distracting herself.  
  
"I've spent a lot of time in the Mediterranean." He replied casually.  
  
This was too much! They stared at one another, treading gently in the shallow water. What the hell had come over her? Why was she being friendly with Sark, something she had vowed never to do? Frolicking. The stupid word came to her. She could hear Vaughn accusing her, hurt and angry, "And I was here missing you while you were frolicking with Sark."  
  
They were both quiet, smiling at each other. Then Sark drew closer to Sydney. Oh no, she thought. Was is he doing? Is he going to kiss me? Move! Move! Stop him! You can't kiss Sark!  
  
But she found herself frozen as if the water had all just turned to ice, mesmerized by Sark's glistening lips. Oh god, I'm letting him kiss me!  
  
He came close to her and raised his hand, touching her hair.  
  
Suddenly, he was showing her something small and green. What? She thought, confused.  
  
"You had a leaf in your hair." Sark explained and threw it toward the wall.  
  
"Oh-" Sydney began. "Thank you."  
  
Now that the moment had passed, and she had to admit she was disappointed, she grew angry with herself. How could she have almost let Sark kiss her? Worse, she almost wanted him to. What was wrong with her? Did she just wake up stupid today?  
  
"I- I'm not feeling well." She said. "I guess I didn't rest enough before. If we've put in enough of an appearance for now, I'd like to go back up and take a nap."  
  
Sark's eyes showed concern. "Do you want me to call the spa's doctor?" He asked.  
  
"No, no," she protested. "I'll be fine. I just need to lay down for a little." Sydney forced herself to look steady and swam out. 


	8. Dinner with Friends

Note- I doubt italics will ever work for me when I upload. I apologize that parts read funny.  
  
******************************************************************  
  
I must have fallen asleep, Sydney thought. The clock on her bedstand read seven p.m.  
  
She exited the bedroom. Sark was on the couch, reading a paper. "Mr. Vail has arrived." He said, without looking up.  
  
"Oh." She replied, still groggy.  
  
"I've checked in with Sloane. Everything is proceeding smoothly." He continued.  
  
Sydney nodded.  
  
"Are you hungry?" Sark asked, looking up now.  
  
"Yes." She responded, realizing she hadn't had much to eat all day.  
  
"We'll try one of the restaurants downstairs. Get dressed." He commanded.  
  
Sydney didn't like his bossy tone. She wanted to say, "I will, but only because I want to," but it sounded childish even in her head.  
  
"I need time to shower." She told him, not wanting to be ordered around. Stupid, but she couldn't help herself and she really did need a shower.  
  
Later, Sydney dressed in a silky cream skirt and top, and, in keeping with their disguise, her showy gold and diamond jewelry.  
  
Sark wore black pants and a steely gray shirt. He was the epitome of casual elegance. When she looked at him again, her dream came rushing back.  
  
Oh no! She thought. I dreamed he did kiss me, back in the pool. Oh, and his lips were so soft, but so insistent. Flashbacks of her dream washed over her. Sark's expert tongue exploring her mouth, she unabashedly running her hands through his hair, his hands moving down her waist..  
  
Sydney bit her lip, afraid that her thoughts were written on her face somehow. But Sark was distracted as well at that moment by her outfit. So creamy and so soft, it looked like a second skin on her, like she was wearing nothing. Naked. Bloody hell, did she know how she affected him? He wondered. She must know. All the flirting he had done. especially when he encountered her in Indonesia. Not very wise, he admitted to himself. Not very wise to get emotional about someone like her. She might look like her mother, but she was not Irina..  
  
Together, they made their way onto the main floor.  
  
*********************************************************************  
  
"I'm sorry, but there's a twenty minute wait." The matire d' explained.  
  
Sark nodded, but sighed inwardly. A wait? This spa wasn't being properly run. He was hungry from the wait for Sydney to finish the World's Longest Shower.  
  
"I'm Roxy Prescott, " a tall blonde woman next to Sydney unexpectedly greeted her and offered her hand.  
  
Sydney smiled back, "Catherine Drake," she replied. "And this is my husband, Edward Drake," she presented Sark.  
  
"Pleased to meet you. May I also present my husband, Bill Prescott." Roxy indicated a slightly overweight man to her left.  
  
"How do you do?" Bill greeted them.  
  
"Very well, thank you, but for this long wait." Sark replied.  
  
"Yes, I couldn't help but overhearing. We've got a table ready in a few minutes. Why don't you join us?" Roxy asked.  
  
"We'd love to." Sark agreed easily, surprising Sydney. "Thank you."  
  
"You're quite welcome." Roxy smiled and Sydney didn't like it.  
  
*****************************************************************  
  
Five minutes later, they had been sat. They had already gone through two bottles of red wine and exchanged the basic details of their lives. Sydney thought Roxy was too young for Bill. Maybe she had married him for the money; he ran an exporting business in Italy. She didn't like the way Roxy looked at Sark. Furthermore, she lavished Sydney with false compliments. Like she was guilty, or trying to throw her. Sydney smiled throughout.  
  
"This is a first-class spa." Roxy said.  
  
"That's what I told Kitty!" Sark agreed in the enthusiastic tone he adopted for Edward.  
  
What? Did he just call me Kitty? Sydney thought. I told him not to call me that!  
  
Sydney smiled for the group. "Oh, Pooh Bear, you said you wanted to go to one of those Las Vegas spas. More action you said."  
  
"Pooh Bear?" Roxy took the bait.  
  
Sydney looked a bit flustered. "Whoops. Pooh Bear is my pet name for him. He used to be such a porky child, right up through college," she poked his belly in demonstration, "that all the kids called him Pooh Bear, in honor of that chubby little bear Winnie. Didn't they Pooh Bear?" She asked, her voice sticky sweet.  
  
Why am I being immature? She asked herself. Sark just seemed to get under her skin. She was satisfied from the brief flash in his eyes, telling her she had riled him. Or so she thought.  
  
Sydney expected a veiled insult back, but instead, Sark firmly pressed her close to him, his hand on the small of her back. She stiffened, but couldn't resist with company present. "Yes, they did, my love," he said, and with malice in his eyes, his mouth descended on hers. She only had time to think, you bastard, a sentiment she hoped reflected in her eyes, before his lips claimed hers.  
  
In front of Roxy and Bill, there was nothing she could do but kiss him back. Sark slipped his tongue a bit forcefully into her mouth. He tastes good, she thought, but their tongues intermingled only briefly, as anything longer would have been inappropriate, before he broke off the kiss with a peck full on her lips. The short kiss made Sydney's body tingle all over. Her heart was thumping. Skillfully, she gave everyone a smile again, seemingly unfazed from one of many displays of love from her affectionate husband.  
  
Inside, her head was repeating stupidly, I just kissed Sark. My god. I just kissed Sark.  
  
She could hear the thump of her heart. Didn't you want him to earlier today? Weren't you dreaming about it? She asked herself. She was tempted to touch her lips in wonder, but couldn't. The bastard really is a good kisser.  
  
Whatever happened during the rest of the meal, Sydney was oblivious. She put her body on auto- nodding, laughing, eating, but she was far away from the revelry really. What are you doing? She asked herself repeatedly. What would Vaughn say, if he knew your thoughts? Truth be told, she was more electrified from one kiss, hell, she was more electrified from one touch from Sark, than her entire encounter with Vaughn back in Jakarta.  
  
What the hell was she going to do? How could a kiss from Sark, the enemy, make her feel like this? She felt alive like never before. Did he know the effect he had on her? He must know. How flustered she became when he was around.. She was blushing even now, thinking about it.  
  
Why had he kissed her? Sark's long ago words echoed in her head. I could take pleasure in being a lot of things to you.. The memory made her shiver.  
  
Sydney wanted to think about everything and she needed to be alone. Moreover, she had to get away from Roxy's shrill and persistant laughter. Nowhere in her mission specs did it instruct she bear to this annoyance.  
  
"I'm sorry, but I have an early class tomorrow." She announced to the gathering when enough time had passed. "Please excuse me."  
  
"Oh, that's too bad." Roxy said. "You're not going to bed also, are you Edward?"  
  
"No, no, classes for me." Sark answered, smiling. "See you later, hon."  
  
I don't like that woman, Sydney thought, rising to leave. 


	9. Tennis, Anyone?

Despite her long nap and her active mind, Sydney fell asleep shortly after climbing into bed. When she awoke the next morning, she expected to find Sark asleep on the sofa.  
  
But the sofa was empty.  
  
She went downstairs for a light breakfast, but Sark still wasn't in their suite when she returned.  
  
Where was he? He was being.. unprofessional. They were on a mission for godsakes, she should be in contact with him at all times. There was little danger here comparatively, she reasoned. If something had gone wrong, SD-6 would have known and contacted her. So where was he? Sydney walked out onto the veranda off the dining area, taking in the view below.  
  
Why couldn't I be partnered with someone more professional? Sydney thought, exasperated. Why Sark out of all the qualified agents? Why couldn't I be teamed with someone who hadn't tried to kill me in the past? Someone who didn't constantly try to rile me. Or kiss me. Don't think about it, she ordered herself immediately.  
  
Most likely Sark decided to go swimming or jogging without the courtesy of letting her know, Sydney thought.  
  
In fact, she was ready for another swim herself. She put on a bright blue bikini, sandals, and went downstairs.  
  
Sydney was perspiring by the time she reached a lounge chair. She scanned the area, but saw no signs of Sark, so she wasted no time diving into the pool. She swam the long pool lazily at first, under the bridges and around the turns, before she began practicing all her strokes. She had once been a star swimmer, long ago in high school. She loved the water, especially after her mother had died. After she thought her mother had died. She could immerse herself in water, and forget the world. When SD-6 came knocking, she found something else to immerse herself in- her training. Recruits were expected to give one hundred and ten percent every time. Sydney gave one hundred and twenty, quickly rising to the top ranks.  
  
Sydney wondered why she was thinking back to her early training. Breathing heavily, she pulled herself up onto the concrete at the far end of the pool, leaned her elbows on the edge, and looked over the beautiful landscape.  
  
Through the bushes, she saw a flash of someone on the tennis courts. Was that Sark? She leaned forward. There he was again. Yes! It was Sark. She couldn't suppress a smile, seeing him in a white polo shirt and cute little white tennis shorts. So un-Sark-like.  
  
But her smile dropped when she saw his partner. Roxy. With her platinum hair high in a swinging pony-tail, and a very flirty tennis skirt. She could hear her nauseating laughter carry across the gardens.  
  
Sydney stared. They looked like a couple. Like a beautiful, rich couple, expertly playing a game of tennis together. She was annoyed. They were on a mission. They weren't here to play tennis with bleach blonde gold- diggers, they were supposed to be married! How would this look to everyone? She shook her head. This is what came of pairing her with someone so unqualified.  
  
It was a good fifteen minutes before Sydney could tear herself away and return to their suite. In the sitting area, she tried to read a required book for school but couldn't concentrate. She threw the book down. She paced the hall.  
  
What's the problem? She asked herself. If he wants to blow your cover playing games with Mrs. Prescott, will then Sloane will deal with it. Get your mind off of this. Go work out. Throw a few punches against the bag and you'll feel better.  
  
Sydney went to the gym and worked out hard, expecting to see Sark in their rooms when she returned an hour later.  
  
He wasn't there again. Something was nagging at her inside, making her feel irritated, restless. She ordered a late lunch in the suite, dining out on the bedroom balcony.  
  
After she finished, she heard a noise inside. Sark. She turned and he was standing in the bedroom casually. He gave her a nod as a hello. He was still wearing the white tennis ensemble. "I'm going to take a shower," was all he said in his lovely British accent and then he headed into the bathroom.  
  
Sydney was suddenly livid. She didn't even know why. She charged into the living room and fidgeted on the couch waiting for Sark to finish. Part of her wanted to storm into the bathroom before he was done, and demand to know what the hell he was thinking, disappearing all day.  
  
Don't let him see how much he maddens you, she warned herself. Stay calm. Don't let him win.  
  
She stood when he walked into the living room, ten agonizing minutes later. He was fully dressed, having brought his clothes into the bathroom she assumed. He was wearing black pants, as usual, and a crisp blue shirt, no jacket or tie.  
  
He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, knowing Sydney was upset about something, and preparing to hear about it.  
  
"You could have informed me where you'd be all day. We are on a mission, Sark. You are my partner, however much I despise that fact. We have to be a team. You cannot just disappear." She said hotly.  
  
"I did not disappear, Ms. Bristow. I have been here at the Oasis. If you required confirmation of my whereabouts, you could easily have checked." He indicated the surveillance system on the laptop.  
  
"I didn't need to. I saw you on the tennis courts with Ms. Prescott. But I shouldn't have to use surveillance to find out where you are. It is part of your job as my partner to me informed." She said, her voice not completely concealing her anger.  
  
Sark smirked. "If I didn't know any better, Agent Bristow, I'd say it almost sounds as if you've internalized your cover and taken on the feelings of a jealous wife." He replied and took a step forward. "And what's this, our first lover's quarrel?"  
  
Sydney squared her shoulders. "Don't flatter yourself." She snapped. "But you bring up a relevant point. Regardless of how much the idea disgusts me, we are supposed to be married. It does not lend credence to our cover if you spend your days with other women." Sydney resented Sark making her point that fact out.  
  
He gave an exaggerated expression of thought, creasing his brow. "We've been married for two years. I think it would look unbelievable if I didn't start.. spending time with other women, don't you?" He replied, mocking.  
  
Sydney narrowed her eyes. Ignore that remark, ignore that macho remark designed just to get a rise out of you, she told herself.  
  
She took ignored it, for the moment, and took the high road.  
  
"It's unprofessional." She said.  
  
"Unprofessional." Sark repeated the word slowly, almost as a question. "You're the only one who seems to be unprofessional right now."  
  
A smile appeared on Sark's face as he finished. "Excuse me?" Sydney replied, indignantly.  
  
"You're clearly bothered by my spending time with Roxy. It's unprofessional to get emotional about your partner, Ms. Bristow, and I certainly didn't expect you to feel that way about me, but.. I do understand." He said it nonchalantly but his eyes challenged her.  
  
Sydney opened her mouth and closed it again. How dare he? She was not emotional about him, she was simply concerned for the integrity of their mission! He was twisting her professionalism into jealousy to suit his own ego, to taunt her again. She was not going to let him get to her. She would simply leave and end the discussion for now. She turned- intending to make an exit with pride-  
  
-and banged her head right into the large floor lamp.  
  
"Ow!" She yelled, bringing her hand up to the sore area. "Damn it!" She sank to the floor, momentarily dizzy. "Ow." She repeated. Stupid lamp, what the hell was it made of anyway, iron? It hurt.  
  
Sark's taunting demeanor disappeared. He kneeled on the floor next to her.  
  
"Let me see it." He said.  
  
"No." Sydney protested with a jerk, frustrated and not wanting to move her hand.  
  
Sark simply grabbed her wrist firmly, with his thumb placed strategically on the sensitive center underside, ready to add pressure to prevent resistance, and pulled her hand aside. He simultaneously turned her head with his other hand to inspect the wound.  
  
"It's going to be a bump the size of a golf ball if you don't ice it right away. It probably will anyway. Lie down. I'll get some ice." He commanded.  
  
Sydney sighed in annoyance and wondered why he was making a big deal of it. "I'm fine. It's just a bump, Sark. I'll go get ice myself."  
  
"Get on the bed, now, Sydney."  
  
Still angry about everything Sydney momentarily forgot the throb in her head, looked Sark in the eyes and replied firmly and slowly, "No."  
  
She planned on going on to repeat "It's just a bump, I can go get ice myself," but Sark didn't hesitate. He scoped Sydney up into his arms. Her arms and legs flailed briefly in protest before realizing it was pointless to begin a physical fight over something so ridiculous and she allowed him to carry her with as much dignity as she could muster. He brought her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed.  
  
"I'll be right back. There's an ice machine down the hall. Don't move." He warned and left.  
  
Sydney clenched her hands into fists, infuriated about what just happened. Sark is not my boss, she thought. She wanted to move, oh how she wanted to get off the bed to show him he didn't command her.  
  
But she didn't want to give him the pleasure of carrying her to the bed again, which she knew he would, for whatever unfathomable reason. There was no way she would let him have that satisfaction again, and it didn't make sense to start a brawl over such a trivial matter.  
  
Sydney didn't like her choices. That calculating little Brit always bent the world around him so that it was do as he says, or have him make you do it anyway. Even though part of her was screaming to stand in defiance, she resigned herself to the bed, sure that he'd take too much pleasure in attempting to put her back if she didn't. She refused to hold her head, no matter how much it throbbed, and crossed her arms to show her displeasure.  
  
Sark came back in the room and chuckled when he saw her. He sat on the bed next to her, and put the ice on her forehead.  
  
Sydney spoke with emphasis. "It's a bump, Sark. I've had much, much worse, sometimes courtesy of you. I can handle a bump on the head. I'm not a child."  
  
"Actually, I think it's amazing how easily you can go from world-class agent to pouty child."  
  
She shot him a look. "I think it's amazing how easily you can go from cocky bastard to.. no, no, you're just always a cocky bastard."  
  
Sark paused. He leaned forward a few inches, still holding the ice against her forehead. Then he whispered sensuously, "I think you like me this way."  
  
Sydney's stomach flipped. She unconsciously drew in her breath. "I told you. Don't flatter yourself." She said.  
  
"I wouldn't dream of it, Sydney. I'm simply telling the truth." His eyes held hers. "And I'm glad." He replied.  
  
"What?" Sydney asked.  
  
"I'm glad." He repeated.  
  
Sydney was confused. She asked slowly, "You're glad that I like you this way?" Sark smiled.  
  
"No! Wait. That's not what I meant. I don't like you this way. I don't like you any way. You twisted my words. What I meant to say is- why are you glad that you think I like you this way?" She sighed in frustration, then gritted out, "What would make you think you do anything more than repulse me in the first place?"  
  
"Because you enjoyed our kiss, as did I. At least I can admit that I want to experience that pleasure again." He said as he laid a hand on her shoulder, setting the area on fire.  
  
Whoa. There was that not-really-unpleasant feeling in her gut again. "You're implying that I want to kiss you again? Please, Sark." Sydney said, laughing in disbelief.  
  
"Then stop me." He challenged, and brought his lips to hers. 


	10. Now

Note: This will be the end of Part Two. I will eventually get around to writing Part Three, I hope, but not for a while. In the meantime, there's so much good fic out there to enjoy so have fun!  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
As Sark leaned in Sydney caught his distinctive masculine scent again. When his lips first touched hers, roughly, hungrily, any lingering objections were pushed out. Everything was pushed out. There was only Sark.  
  
She pressed herself into his hard chest. In response, Sark ran his hands through her hair, and held her head, bringing her closer. The ice pack fell away, but she didn't notice. Sydney ran her fingers through, then clutched Sark's curls, made tighter from the hot air. Sark's free hand moved down her side, awakening other parts of her body. When it came to her waist, she thought it would rest there, but he gripped her and pulled her to him even closer and she let out a muffled cry into their kiss. This kiss was nothing like the one they had shared at dinner. That kiss left her confused. There was no room for confusion now. No mistaking Sark's feelings. He wanted her.  
  
And god, she wanted him, too. As their tongues swirled deeply, she began to realize how intensely she wanted him. How she craved him. The thought scared her. She was ready to betray everyone, even herself, for lust. Desire. Everything she had worked for for years, her beliefs and values, she was about to throw them away in exchange for Sark's expert touch.  
  
She couldn't do it. She had to stop now. Stop now before it got out of control and she no longer had the power. Say it, her mind scolded. Say it. Their tongues still mixed. She did not want to let Sark go.  
  
Say it! Her mind screamed.  
  
"Stop!" Sydney broke off the kiss.  
  
Sark looked down on her and she could see the mixed emotions flash through his eyes. Lust. Then disappointment.. even hurt? No, now they changed back to their easy superiority. The lack of expression served to make him look removed from the situation. Like he knew what was to happen and was simply waiting for it to unfold. Unconcerned. Cold.  
  
Was she mistaken when she thought he wanted her? Maybe the kiss was just another game. Another trick. Another lie. Sydney was breathing heavier than she would have liked. Sark straightened himself as she sat up abruptly. She was aware of the throb in her head again, it was worse now somehow. She stared into Sark's eyes which were cold as usual. She had been mistaken. Fooled. This was all some ploy. And she had been ready to betray everything.  
  
Anger boiled up and grew, fueled by her unfulfilled passion, which needed somewhere to go.  
  
"Consider yourself stopped." Sydney spat.  
  
Sark smirked, sending a chill down her spine. "Pity. Had your body only overridden your precious morals for just a few more minutes I'd have stopped myself.. satisfied."  
  
Sydney's eyes grew wide with his implication. Before she could even think about it, her hand flew to his face. She slapped him hard.  
  
Sark's eyes flashed but his face showed no signs of feeling the sting of the angry red mark across it. "I must admit the ease with you were about to give yourself would have pleased me more."  
  
Sydney raised her hand to slap him again. Sark caught her wrist and gripped it tightly. His eyes revealed a fire behind them now. Her heart was pounding. Sark held both her wrist and her eyes. She had the insane thought that he was going to kiss her again. She could swear for an instant she was sure he would. Then his eyes were cruel again. He threw her hand down.  
  
I'll play your game, Sydney thought hotly. Give it back to you just as hard and see how you like it.  
  
"Perhaps you're right." Sydney smiled, beginning to mix the truth with a lie so he wouldn't know what was genuine. "Being this close to you I have often wondered what it would be like to get to know you more.. intimately, Sark. To flirt with danger a bit.." She frowned with exaggeration and continued lazily, "Unfortunately, now that I've tasted a sample of what's to come I've lost interest."  
  
Doubt. Sydney knew that she couldn't completely fool Sark, he knew her too well, but she was a well-trained liar and somehow he was vulnerable. She saw some part of him doubt her desire. Some part of him doubted his own prowess, his ability to seduce her so easily. Good.  
  
"Once again, that's a pity. I would have been interested. At least until morning."  
  
Sydney recoiled. "I hate you!" She shouted, hurt, no longer able to play the game. She leapt from the bed and hurried over to the desk.  
  
Sark faltered. He looked down and licked his lips. Sydney caught a glimpse of him through her peripheral vision and thought he felt bad, guilty. Good. It looked as if he might say something, then decided against it.  
  
"I'm leaving." She said as she grabbed her purse to go.  
  
"Don't bother, Sydney." Sark replied carelessly and beat her to the door.  
  
Sydney took a step toward the door herself, then backed up and collapsed onto the bed, gripping the soft comforter. Her emotions threatened to get the best of her. What she had been holding back in Sark's presence came to the surface.  
  
Don't cry, don't cry, Sydney told herself, pursing her lips.  
  
It seemed every time she was with Sark, she was subject to a torrent of emotions. Sydney tried to shake her head clear of anything but loathing for him. It was safer that way.  
  
She did hate Sark. She hated him. She wanted to throw his suitcases off the balcony. She pictured herself opening them up and watching his four- thousand dollar suits blow away in the wind. Of course there was no wind in this hot desert. Sydney bit her lip.  
  
After everything, she was still aroused and she hated him even more for it. Cold shower. The words were the answer to a prayer. The balcony door was still open, and it was beginning to make the room a sauna. Her passion, her anger, had already made perspire. Her shirt was sticking to her back. She took two aspirin for her head. She could tell there would be a small bump for another day. A cold shower was exactly what she needed right now.  
  
****************************************************  
  
Sark made it as far as lobby. In his haste and irritation, he didn't see the careless bellhop ready to collide with him. The bellhop's tray hit Sark's chest and the contents of some poor guest's meal splattered onto his designer clothing.  
  
He nodded away the bellhop's profuse apologies and promises to have the Oasis take care of the dry cleaning.  
  
This confirmed it. What he needed was a cold shower. Thank god Sydney decided to leave the suite, he thought, as he returned to the elevator.  
  
Back in their living area, Sark removed his shirt and draped it over a chair. Cold shower. That was the remedy. His intimacy with Ms. Bristow would have caused him to respond quite apparently if it hadn't ended when it did. She knew he wanted her, perhaps she had enjoyed teasing him and Sark was hot with muted rage about it. One day their paths would cross again, in another capacity, as enemies again, and he would.. what? He thought to himself. Kill her? Of course he could never do that. But a good fight might ease his fury. To best her, to make her beg, to have her pinned to the ground again, but this time, to kiss her for as long as he wanted.. to.. No! Not to kiss her, to capture her! This was maddening. He had to freeze these suggestive thoughts out of his mind with cold shower.  
  
Sark opened the door to the vanity and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw. Sydney, absolutely naked. She was ready to take a shower and hadn't heard him enter. Sark instantly pulled the door back, leaving only an opening of an inch or so. Sydney's back was turned to him. His gaze went upward, from her lovely long legs to her strong shoulders.  
  
Sydney turned, but she still wasn't looking toward the door and Sark was rewarded with a view of her bare front. He stared for a moment at every inch of her uncovered skin, every inch of her lean, toned body. He briefly fantasized about throwing the door open and taking her in his arms right then. But what would she do? Push him away once more. He didn't want to go through that again.  
  
Sark didn't want to be caught staring at her naked, either and he silently closed the door.  
  
Bloody hell, he thought. Seeing what he just saw was the last thing he needed. That image was not going to help him stop thinking of her.  
  
Sark stormed down the hall. If there was no hope of getting a cold shower, the next best thing was a stiff drink. He grabbed a black shirt, dressed and headed down toward the elevator once again.  
  
He slammed into a chair at the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey. There weren't many people there. In fact, there weren't too many people left at the hotel on a Sunday evening.  
  
Sydney, Sydney, Sydney. He closed his eyes and he saw Sydney. He opened them and she was there, too. Now he saw her naked when his eyes closed! Not that he didn't imagine her unclothed before, but now he knew. She made him feel a myriad of emotions at once. He wanted to shake her, he wanted to kiss her, he wanted to protect her, he even wanted to fight her. He enjoyed riling her. It had been so long since he felt anything and now she came along and he felt everything at once. Ironic. Worse, she was the one person he really shouldn't be feeling anything for.  
  
He ordered another shot. His anger slowly subsided as regret over the things he had said grew.  
  
As if being tortured by an unrequited longing wasn't bad enough. But was it really unrequited? No, she wanted him, too. Sark was sure of it. It was just her principles and his "cocky" attitude that interfered.  
  
He could not continue like this. He knew he could break her resistance. He had to have her, no matter the cost. He slammed down his shot. Right. Now.  
  
**************************************************************************** **  
  
Sydney lay on bed doing nothing but staring at the wall. She was wearing a white tank top and shorts. The sun had set a while ago, it was dark outside now.  
  
She didn't love Vaughn. She refused to think about her feelings for Sark for the moment, but she knew she didn't love Vaughn. Even if Sark was nothing more than a cold killer, he had electrified her in a way she never thought possible. Now, she didn't want to continue with Vaughn, or anyone else, unless she had that intensity.  
  
No, she was lying to herself. She didn't want intensity with someone else. She didn't even think it was possible. She wanted Sark. She was head- over-heels in love with him.  
  
Sydney closed her eyes and bit her lip with the admission. She wished she could just tell her heart to stop. Command it not to love him.  
  
At least she could command her actions, if not her feelings, she thought with a sigh. She would go on pretending, just like she did every day. She would bottle it all up and store it away. She would go on working with him for as long as was required and she would never let her feelings show, she resolved. In time, she would get over it.  
  
Sydney heard a noise coming from the other side of the suite. Sark had returned. She listened to his footsteps. He was coming toward the bedroom. Her eyes flashed to the lock. She hadn't locked the door.  
  
So what? Her mind said. If you're going to work together, you've got to face him sometime.  
  
The door was pushed open and Sark filled the entranceway.  
  
Sydney's eyes widened and her pulsed quickened. Tensed, all in black, he looked like a panther ready to pounce. She jumped to her feet. Sark eyed her, open, real. There was no deception this time.  
  
He covered the distance between them in a flash. Sydney took one step back before he grabbed her and pushed her toward the wall.  
  
Sark slammed his body against hers and Sydney felt a wave of pleasure run through her. She let go of her resolution momentarily when his mouth covered hers for a bruising kiss. The taste of whiskey told her he'd been at the bar. Sydney sunk into his body.  
  
Sark's hand cupped her breast, squeezed, and she groaned.  
  
Then Sydney regained her resolve and pushed him back. She lunged two feet away before Sark turned and caught her again. This time, he used the force of his body to send them both falling onto the bed. Sydney flipped up and Sark grabbed her arms and pinned her under him. Sydney grunted, trying to free herself. They were both breathing heavy, chests rising and falling visibly.  
  
"Dammit, Sydney, I didn't mean it, any of it. You know I didn't. I want you, Sydney."  
  
"That's your problem, Sark. I don't want you." She told him, squirming in his grip.  
  
"Yes, you do." He said simply, and held her tighter. "No one makes you feel the way I do. I know it because no one makes me feel the way you do, either."  
  
Sark brought his head to her throat and kissed it, working up toward her ear. "And if I have to tease you all night just to break you, just to make you admit it, I will, with pleasure." He whispered.  
  
Sydney gasped and shivered. As Sark worked kisses down her neck she let go of her resistance. Sark pulled aside her tank top and took her nipple in his mouth. Sydney knew she could not stop herself now, not if everything in the world depended on it. She hungered for Sark so badly she didn't know if she could ever be satisfied.  
  
The exquisite sensation of his mouth on her was briefly interrupted to remove her shirt, then his own. Sark threw away the clothing and went swiftly back to her bare skin, kissing her uncovered breasts, licking them, gently biting each nipple. Sydney gave herself over to the pleasure. She wrapped her legs around Sark's body and moaned his name.  
  
He raised himself again, throwing off the remains of his clothing, then began on hers. He lingered for a moment on her panties, smiling when he saw how wet she was through them. He traced a finger over the thin silk between her legs and she whimpered. Then he hooked his fingers teasingly in the same area, removing her panties from the bottom, but not before his fingers brushed her opening and she moaned again, and shifted up, trying to feel more.  
  
"Sark, now." Sydney spoke throatily. "Please."  
  
Sark didn't need to be told twice. He lifted himself up and thrust into Sydney with a groan. Home, Sydney thought when he entered her. Being with Sark is home for me. It's where I'm meant to be.  
  
Sydney was Sark's equal in every way. Thrusting in and out, Sark realized he didn't want to be with anyone else, probably ever. No one else could ever match him the way she did. No one else could make him feel like this.  
  
Sydney dug her nails into Sark's strong back and whimpered in pleasure. She cried out, then bit his shoulder hard to stifle another cry. Sark altered his pace, holding back until Sydney was ready. She came, pressed against Sark and shaking into his body, calling out his name again. Her muscles tightened around him, sending him into his own ecstasy a few seconds before she finished. He held her tightly as his own orgasm shook through him.  
  
Sark kissed her deeply.  
  
"That was." Sydney began quietly.  
  
"Incredible." Sark finished in her ear.  
  
Sydney rolled the now-weakened Sark under her body, pinning him down.  
  
"Next time I'm on top." She said, grinning shamelessly.  
  
"You'll have to fight me for it." Sark replied teasing, as he used his body to roll her back under him.  
  
Sydney laughed. "I will, with pleasure." She said mocking his earlier words, staring up at him.  
  
"And I'm sure I'll lose with pleasure." He kissed her again.  
  
Sydney wiggled free and sat up. She felt different. More alive than ever before. But different. Like something in herself had changed and could never be undone. She felt freer. Lighter. Stronger. Naughty.  
  
Consequences be damned. Hadn't she already given enough, hadn't she done enough for everyone else, for the good of the country yet?  
  
"I don't want to go out. I'd rather stay in tonight." She said suggestively.  
  
"I couldn't agree more. Shall we raid the mini bar?" He asked.  
  
"For twenty dollar macadamia nuts and miniature Absolut bottles?" She replied with a smile as she walked over to the small fridge without bothering to put anything on.  
  
She opened the door. "Miniature bottles of Piper," she called to him, pleased. She took one out and walked over to Sark.  
  
"No need to dine on nuts and vodka, Sydney. I'll order room service." He told her.  
  
"Mmmm.. yes. But first, desert." Sydney said as she poured a bit of the chilled champagne onto Sark's bare chest. 


	11. Sark's Past Part One

Sark dreamed as he slept with Sydney, something he hadn't done in a long time, and he dreamed of her, something he hadn't done in years..  
  
*  
  
Sark met Kora when he was five, though he had no recollection of their meeting. Kora was only three and a half when she was handed over to him to watch over, while their parents spoke outside the café where they had chanced to run into one another.  
  
He stood awkwardly next to her at first, not sure what to make of the girl or the situation. He was accustomed to being the youngest, the one always taken care of, no one had been left in his care before. Then Kora smiled at him, and he took her small hand in his own, and guarded her from the world.  
  
Their parents saw, and laughed that the two were destined to fall in love.  
  
Sark and Kora were playmates from then on, their friendship slowly building into something more. They spent most of their time alone together, running wild, even when they were much too old to do so.  
  
But suddenly, at fourteen, Kora was wretched away. Her family left, with no explanations, no means of contact.  
  
Sark did not see her again for four years. Until he was twenty, and had been recruited by Q1, a top secret branch of British Intelligence, unmatched by any other organization the world over. Or so he thought, at the time. His superior marks in school had set him apart from his peers, and unbeknownst to him, he had been watched for years, and approached soon after his graduation.  
  
One February day, with the same suddenness with which she had departed, Kora came back into his life. At the pub on a Friday evening shaping up to be like any other, she appeared across the tables and came walking toward him. She was even more beautiful now, tall and slim. Sark would never forget her brilliant smile and her eyes- an icier blue than his own- made more so by the contrast of her dark black hair.  
  
In no time, they picked up right where they left off, as is the case with two close souls. Time does little to affect their bond. Kora explained how her father was relocated to Moscow, how he thought it best for her to make a clean break, and she relented, knowing she'd come back soon.  
  
Sark didn't dwell on the past, she was here now and that was enough.  
  
He knew he'd marry her that night.  
  
And he would have. If she hadn't betrayed him. If he hadn't caught her betrayal, more specifically.  
  
But everything that happened couldn't be undone, and he wouldn't want to. Even though that day, that second he made his decision, changed his life, changed him unalterably forever. 


	12. Explanations

Sydney awoke, her body entwined with Sark's, his arms possessively around her. She was happily surprised. She was always one to require her own space as she slept, even with Vaughn, sometime in the middle of the night she rolled herself free. In the past, she had always woken up on the opposite side of the bed, alone, never before having fit completely enough with anyone to remain comfortably entangled.  
  
She sensed Sark was awake, even though his eyes were closed, and confirmed it when he pulled her tighter.  
  
He opened his eyes. "Do you regret, now in the light of day?" He asked softly, surprising her.  
  
"No," she shook her head and kissed his shoulder. She had many questions, she had concerns, but they could wait a little longer, and they wouldn't cause her regret regardless, she wouldn't allow it. "Will you shower with me?" She asked.  
  
Sark smiled. "Did you think I would let you shower alone, even if you wanted to?"  
  
"Mmmm." Sydney began with a lazy smile. "Mr. Sark, just because I slept with you, do you think you're going to get everything your way now? You think you're in control after one tumble in the bedroom?"  
  
"I was in control before 'one tumble in the bedroom.'" He replied, his hand running down her back, and lower..  
  
"Really." Sydney asked, taking her hand and tracing it up his thigh. She heard an intake of breath from Sark, who expecting something other than what she was planning.  
  
Sydney gave Sark a sharp pinch on his inner thigh, laughing.  
  
"Ow-" Fully awake now, he grabbed her hand and was on top of her instantly.  
  
"What?" Sydney asked, still laughing.  
  
Sark didn't answer. He gently pushed inside her and she gasped and forgot about everything.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
They showered together, taking turns running the soap more than necessary over the length of each other's bodies, making sure no part was left unattended.  
  
Sydney relished in the feeling of Sark's wet body pressed against hers under the hot water, kissing his wet lips. If only all her mornings could start as such.  
  
They got no further than the bed again, upon finishing. It was afternoon as they held each other stretched out amid the soft pillows and blankets, slowly caressing and exploring and teasing.  
  
Later, as they both lay breathless, Sydney knew it was time to ask questions. She sighed, and twisted around to meet Sark's eyes.  
  
She started with something easy.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"What?" Sark asked.  
  
"I've just slept with you. three times without knowing your name. I think I should know."  
  
There was a pause. "You do." Sark answered.  
  
Sydney scowled. "No, I don't." She said.  
  
"Sark is my name, my first name. A long time ago, I dropped my last name for safety reasons and decided to just go by 'Sark,' not that there are many Sark's in the world, so it wouldn't be too difficult to ascertain my identity, but why go around advertising it? When people began calling me 'Mr. Sark' out of respect, everyone assumed it was my last name."  
  
"All this time.. Sark." Sydney breathed. She couldn't say it didn't fit. It was just like him to answer one question only to open the door to another. She finally had his first name, but now what was his last?  
  
She would have to get that answer later, she told herself. Other matters were more important.  
  
Sark waited while Sydney digested this and prepared her next question. He knew the interrogation was coming. He knew she was burning with questions, he knew she deserved answers, but he didn't know how much he could tell her. He didn't know all the answers himself.  
  
He had to make a decision soon. The room was still, silent and sunny. No outside noises could be heard through the thick glass doors to the balcony, only the sunlight was let in, casting an ethereal glow on Sydney.  
  
She thought up and discarded several other inquiries before suddenly spitting out what was foremost on her mind.  
  
"Tell me the truth about you, about Dixon, about everything."  
  
Sark gave a long pause again and Sydney thought he may not give her an answer. But then he began to speak and she exhaled and listened to each word like it was the most important information she ever received in her life.  
  
"I was recruited by British Intelligence at eighteen. Specifically, Q1. After three years I was assigned to go under cover working for," Sark took a breath, "your mother."  
  
Sydney blinked in disbelief, then her eyes grew wide. She was too stunned to speak just yet. She was afraid he wouldn't continue if she uttered a word anyway. Sark added, "I've been working undercover, as an agent of Irina's, for five years."  
  
He continued, "When I captured you in Budapest, what I said was about Dixon was a lie. A half lie. Dixon did discover the truth about SD-6, however, Sloane learned of his knowledge and was prepared to dispose of him. Sloane always underestimated Dixon. In such a situation, Dixon didn't have the option to be a double agent like yourself. The only thing the CIA could offer him was the protection program. Can you imagine he'd be happy in that life?"  
  
Sark didn't expect an answer. "So, I made Dixon an offer to join British Intelligence. Why, you don't need to know. I offered Sloane the Rambaldi manuscript in Jakarta, among other things, in exchange for Dixon's release. That is why I could never let you have it. As I said, Sloane always underestimated Dixon, so he agreed, providing I work for him for the next few months, until all the sensitive information Dixon had about SD-6 could be changed, assuring he could do no direct harm."  
  
"I committed myself as the guarantee of Dixon's cooperation until that time. At most, Sloane saw the situation as losing an asset and gaining an adversary, but I doubt he really thought about Dixon too much. He never considered him a top agent- a major mistake. In return for the small loss, he gained two important Rambaldi pieces, and my services for a while."  
  
Sydney could hold back no longer. She breathed excitedly, "All this time, you've really been one of the good guys?"  
  
"Why do you do that?" Sark demanded.  
  
"Do what?" Sydney asked, confused, her excitement suddenly brought down a peg by his tone.  
  
"Separate the world like that. Good guys, bad guys. It's not all black and white, Sydney. It's not a fairy tale."  
  
Sark took a breath. This was the point of no return. Did he lie? Did he even know the truth?  
  
"Yes, I ultimately work for 'good', for British Intelligence. But as I'm sure you know, Q1 has more of an 'end justifies the means' philosophy, not like CIA. And when you're deep under cover, Sydney, things change, you change. Sometimes you have to sacrifice for the greater good. Often."  
  
It was said, no turning back now, Sark thought.  
  
Sydney's heart beat as it did the night before. He was one of the good guys! She didn't care if he had a different philosophy than her own, he was working for the same goals, that was all that mattered. It all seemed too good to be true. She had finally given in, given up fighting what she felt for Sark, and now she learned that they were really on the same side, that there was no need for shame, or guilt. She had everything she wanted. She loved Sark, whether she was allowed to or not, but it was all that much better now that her conscience gave her heart it's blessing.  
  
Sydney positioned herself on top of Sark and kissed him deeply. In her entire life she was never happier than she was at that moment.  
  
"Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me. I love you." She said.  
  
For a second, Sydney thought Sark looked pained by her words.  
  
"Sydney-" He started.  
  
Her stomach dropped. She covered his mouth with her fingers, fearing his response. "Don't." She said. "Don't say anything you don't want to. Whatever you say, whatever you are, whatever you feel, it won't change the way I feel."  
  
She moved off him, intending to rise, more hurt than she was showing, but a hand grabbing her arm stopped her.  
  
Sark pulled her back into him.  
  
"I love you, too, Sydney." He whispered into her ear. 


	13. Time

Note- I changed my mind about Irina's whereabouts. Since I never mentioned her before, this was possible, but I need to note that my story is now AU, with Irina never having turned herself in, never having become good, or whatever she is. Sydney has been aware that Sark works for her, but she's still at large, running her organization. I hope I'm not confusing anyone.  
  
And I think only two chapters to go after this one.  
  
*************************************************************  
Sydney stood in front of the closet, staring at her clothes, but completely removed from the task of choosing an outfit. Even though it was only the night before when their relationship technically changed, it was already unfathomable to Sydney how she could have ever thought there was any other man for her than Sark.  
  
Some of the men from her past had been great catches. They were safe, honest, kind, loving men. They would make wonderful husbands someday. For somebody else.  
  
They did not stir her blood like Sark. They did not set her body on fire from one look.  
  
No other was her match in every way. She belonged with Sark.  
  
And she knew he felt the same, she knew his heart as surely as she knew her own.  
  
His voice came up behind her.  
  
"This one," he suggested, pointing to the light blue green dress hanging in the closet, then placing his hands on her waist from behind.  
  
Sark helped her dress, breaking up the task with intermittent kisses and caresses.  
  
When Sydney was finished, she stopped to admire the way Sark looked wearing khaki's and nothing else, highlighting his well-defined upper body. She raised an eyebrow toward his bare chest and ran her hands down it, hooking one finger in the top of his pants and yanking him close.  
  
"Sydney." Sark groaned with regret. "If you don't stop we'll never get downstairs to eat."  
  
"Ah, that's right, we wouldn't want to keep the gentleman from his tea time." She taunted.  
  
"That is what is being served at the moment, so we have no choice. I would much prefer something more substantial than tiny sandwiches and scones, but dinner isn't for several hours, and I think we ought to make an appearance."  
  
************************************************************************  
  
They sat down to the afternoon tea the hotel was serving. Sydney wasn't big on tea. LA didn't do tea. They drank coffee. Lots of it. But she had an irrepressible grin on her face throughout. That freeing, devilish feeling that began the night before was growing. When Sark got a smidgen of clotted cream on his finger, she reached across the table and, holding his eyes, took his hand to her lips and sucked the cream off his finger.  
  
Sydney could read everything from the look Sark gave her. It was a "you're in trouble, just wait till we get back upstairs" look.  
  
She up-ed the ante, slipping off her shoe and running her foot up his leg, thankful for the fresh white tablecloth that hung to the floor.  
  
Sark ever-so-slightly shook his head and grinned.  
  
Just then, Sydney heard a familiar irritating voice.  
  
"Hi, you two!"  
  
It was Roxy. Sydney flashed a brief smile, then returned her gaze to Sark.  
  
Roxy looked at him as well, like a predator.  
  
"We were just sitting down to tea." Roxy motioned to her husband who was lounging at a table near the window, not paying attention. "I so enjoyed our game of tennis- your husband is an excellent player, Mrs. Drake- would you be free for another game later this afternoon?"  
  
The nerve of this woman to flirt with my husband in front of me! Sydney thought. Oh, she put up with it before, when she didn't care about Sark- ok, when she pretended she didn't care about Sark- but now, she wasn't going to let her get away with it, especially not right in front of her!  
  
Sark spoke. "Actually, we were just headed upstairs to-"  
  
"Fuck." Sydney finished, flashing a catty smile to Roxy.  
  
There was a moment of stunned silence. Sydney caught the corners of Sark's mouth curl slightly up in a grin before he suppressed it. Roxy looked as if someone had just slapped her across the face.  
  
She plastered on a false, uneven smile. "Well. You two lovebirds have fun. Wouldn't want to keep you from enjoying your time here together!" Roxy attempted to sound cheery and then quickly left.  
  
Sydney smiled sweetly at Sark.  
  
"You're such a bad girl." He admonished.  
  
"Wanna make something of it?"  
  
Sark gave her a look that made her shiver.  
  
"Upstairs," was all he said.  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
For the next several glorious days, Sydney and Sark were wrapped up in their own world, nothing existed beyond the two of them, and their immediate space. They couldn't go far in case they were needed unexpectedly, but nothing required their immediate attention until the weekend, when they completed the mission they were sent there for in the first place, so they were mostly free to do as they pleased together.  
  
They partook in all the activities the spa offered. Sark gave Sydney tennis lessons and she was not surprised to find out he was an expert rider, as well, when they took a short excursion on horseback together. They breakfasted on the veranda, drank wine in the gardens in the evening, had long bubble baths with champagne at night. Sydney was content just being silent next to Sark, just being near him.  
  
He was much quieter than Vaughn.  
  
Vaughn, who she would have to face when she returned.  
  
**************************************************************************** *************  
  
Mr. Vail set up his meeting with Victor Palladino on Friday afternoon.  
  
It wasn't that the mission was so short that troubled Sydney. Most of her missions were rather quick, that was the nature of the spy business. Get in, knock a few guards unconscious, steal the crucial intel, get out. The faster the better.  
  
And it was not that the mission was so easy that bothered her, either. She was good at what she did. Many of her missions went off without a hitch, that was why she was still alive.  
  
But it was the fact that Sloane had invested such time, and two valuable agents, into something of this nature that unsettled her. It didn't make sense.  
  
In a few hours on their first day, they had hacked into the entire hotel. She and Sark didn't even have to monitor Mr. Vail, as she thought, a team back in LA was doing that. It only took a few minutes for Sydney to bump into Mr. Vail get the tracker on his briefcase, confirm her success back with SD-6- and the CIA- and it was over.  
  
Why the long stay?  
  
**************************************************************************** ***  
  
Sydney had these thoughts tugging at the back of her mind while they packed to leave. They were booked on the eleven o'clock flight from Phoenix back to LA.  
  
Back to her father and Vaughn.  
  
Back to those two people who, for a long time, were the only souls on earth with whom she could share all her secrets.  
  
And now she was going to have to lie to them.  
  
"Ready?" Sark asked.  
  
She nodded. He slung the heavier of her bags over his shoulder and placed his hand on her back, escorting her out of the room. 


End file.
